


got to have it

by sicklikewinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicklikewinter/pseuds/sicklikewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There is lightning and sparks everywhere when Jake touches your skin, so shocking and electrifying you could swear you could see sparks erupt on your flesh.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	got to have it

**Author's Note:**

> written (a while ago) in semi-response to the flash where the alpha kids kick ass in their lands  
> b/c fucking _gasmasks_ man  
>  ~~plus i needed practice with smut so~~

There is lightning and sparks everywhere when Jake touches your skin, so shocking and electrifying you could swear you could see sparks erupt on your flesh. Jake has you pressed against the wall, his face inches from yours—kissing you despite the masks blocking contact you can feel the emotions swelling from his gesture hot hot hot it’s burning with need and desire—one hand gripping your wrists and the other slid high up and under your shirt. 

More sparks jolt down your spine when he toys with your nipple, his hips grinding against your own. It’s hot, and there’s not enough oxygen (that’s silly you have enough it’s jake he’s doing wonderfulelectricterrifying things to your lungs) to keep you sane. You’re drowning in the sparks and lightning Jake emits every time he touches you. 

You gasp when he rests his head in the crook of your neck, the mask he’s wearing making you strain your neck in an odd angle to accommodate  and his hand retreat downward. You cant your hips upward when he brushes teasingly over your hardened dick, the fabric giving in just the barest of friction against it; and it makes you gasp louder—his touch is setting you on fire and you worry it’ll catch in the toxic atmosphere of LOTAK and the two of you will burn in an inferno of emotion—and you vaguely wonder if this is adequate usage of your time.

Jake slides his hand down the front of your pants, you twitch your hips into the touch—oh  _god_  yes that’s fucking amazing jake shit your mind is incoherent your voice hoarse as you yield to the green clad male holding you tight—and he grips your cock firmly, stroking it slowly-teasingly-fuckfuckjakeshit.

It burns, his touches, and you can feel the electricity draining from Jake’s touches into your being and you want more of it. More more  _more_.

Jake’s hand is rough, calluses from his rough upbringing but you can’t bring yourself to care; his hand on your dick is just the right thing—equal parts friction equal parts roughness and it’s hot hot hot—and you jerk your hips, stomach tingling.  His head is still resting in the crook of your neck, and you can just barely here him muttering, “jesus christmas Dirk,” over and over and over again—it’s as hot for him as it is for you and your stomach flips and your breathing catches—as he strokes you agonizingly slow. 

You can feel the tingle in your stomach building, and you jerk your hips; hoping to spur Jake on to be faster, but he takes his time. A frustrated sound leaves your lips, muffled by the mask and Jake twitches and shakes in silent laughter—he’s enjoying you squirming that bastard—as he suddenly quickens his pace.  His hand on your cock is electric all over, the tingling in your stomach more erratic and frantic than a slow buildup. 

A muffled ‘shit shit’ is heard and you wonder if that was you or Jake, but it  _has_  to be you because you’re straining against his grip on your wrists, his body nearly melded with yours as he continues his pace. It’s near brutal but you can feel yourself gasping-panting and Jake is gasping along with you, rutting against your thigh and you wonder if he’s as ready to come undone as you are.

You spasm once twice, and Jake continues to stroke your cock—making as much of your orgasm as he can and he jerks frantically against your thigh—and he tenses with a high-pitched frantic whine leaving his lips. He goes limp, your bound hands free to wrap around him. 

“Christ Dirk…” his voice is small and it strains your ears to try and hear him. You chuckle, doing nothing more but cling to him as the two of you stand against one of the tomb walls of LOTAK. 

(there’s more work to be done you realize with a bubble of dread but you ignore and pop it when you look down at the green clad male; it can wait you’ve been here long enough to deserve a small break.)


End file.
